The French Way
by nerdygoddess
Summary: When Hermione's parents die and she's forced to live with her Aunt in France, what happens? After a brutal attack on Draco, the Malfoys find themselves clinging onto their lives. They're on the run. From a family member.
1. Prim and Proper

Hermione looked around once more at what is now her former bedroom. After the death of her parents, Hermione had to leave Britain and go to live with her aunt in France- or atleast for the summer. After that, of course, she'd go to Hogwarts.

Hermione had never really met her Dear Aunt Jennifer; her parents rarely talked about her. The only thing that she knows about her is that she is quite a proper lady, always trying to play matchmaker. Hermione also knew that she was extremely traditional in everything that she said, did, and was surrounded by, like her house décor. That was pretty much it.

Her plane departed to France at approximately 10:05 a.m. It was currently 9:20 a.m. and Hermione had already checked in her luggage and everything, including Crookshanks, so therefore she had some time to kill. She decided to get a chocolate milkshake from a nearby vendor and then she'd wait in the terminal.

After paying the stout man 2 dollars (U.S.), she wandered around and waited for the plane, which didn't take long. Soon, everyone was boarding it, as did Hermione, carefully concealing the milkshake just in case outside food wasn't permitted in or something. A couple of people had smiled at her, but everyone else seemed much too concerned with either themselves, their children, or were just to rude to give a passing smile.

The plane ride was a slow one, which gave Hermione a long, long time to sleep and think. She wondered what Harry was doing, as was Ron and Ginny? Most likely having a great time. Hermione frowned. Her parents had passed on and she was flying to France to live with some old shriveled up prune, she presumed. She took a swig of her milkshake and sat it down. The stewardess walked by and asked Hermione if she needed anything.

"Um… no thank you!" Hermione said after examining the cart. The stewardess nodded and walked on. Soon the plane had landed in France. Hermione let out a long sigh. She was about to meet this Aunt Jennifer of hers. It took awhile to get to her row, but she eventually got off and got her luggage. Now for the hard part- recognizing Aunt Jennifer, especially when you haven't the faintest idea who she is. For Hermione, it actually wasn't that difficult, though, seeing as how she-rather her chauffeur- was holding up a sign that said "Escort for Hermione Granger of England." She walked over to the man, who ushered her to the car. Now for the magic moment. She was going to meet her Aunt! The chauffeur opened up Hermione's door and she looked inside at the woman sitting contently, sipping a glass of wine.

"Dearest 'Ermioné!" Her aunt- way younger than expected- welcomed her with outstretched arms. She pronounced her name Ere-Mi-O-Naye, which Hermione picked up very soon.

"Oh, child, you are so adult like! But, OH! Vhat are you drinking!" she picked up Hermione's milkshake and handed it to the chauffeur. "Pierre, deespose of dis at vonce!"

Hermione looked in disbelief at her aunt, interested in hearing the explanation/reason for tossing her milkshake. 

"Too much sugar, and sipping is very unattracteeve." Hermione rolled her eyes and looked out of the window. This woman was getting on her nerves already. Not to mention the fact that she'd ask Hermione of her 'casanovas,' or boyfriends. Hermione always replied with the truth: "I have and never had one."

Her aunt had stopped by that point and only spoke when they arrived at the Gilbreth Mansion. "Ve're here!" she said, motioning to the mansion. Hermione looked up in awe as they left the limousine. Her aunt had said something about the architecture of the mansion but Hermione only had eyes for the ornate features of all of the metal and the fancy brickwork; she could care less about the whole wood-and-nails-thing. They went inside and it was air-conditioned, an immediate relief as compared to the beaming sun outside. Jennifer showed Hermione her room. This is when Hermione truly was overcome with joy. This bedroom was five times as large as her old one. It was complete with a walk-in closet and bathroom, along with a fully-equipped vanity, although Hermione could care less about cosmetics. She opened up two doors to reveal a quaint, personal, reading space. By this time, Jennifer had left. Hermione opened up a book in the library and read until morning.

Her aunt woke her up, making her jump. "Your partner is here!" She said with a broad grin.

"What partner!" Hermione was upset and confused for two reasons: 1) Why does she need a partner, and 2) Why didn't Aunt Jennifer get her up earlier? Hermione grumbled and made herself decent, quickly descending the stairs in the time it normally took her to brush her teeth. She looked over the table. Jennifer was speaking to another woman, a blonde-haired woman of about forty-something. Hermione frowned at seeing her hair. It looked all too familiar… Aunt Jennifer had now said goodbye to the woman, leaving Hermione alone with Aunt Jennifer and another person. He only came when Hermione's Aunt Jennifer beckoned for him. His blonde hair shone so brightly, partially from the lights. Hermione almost screamed when she saw who it was (A/N: lol if you didn't figure it out anyway…:P). None other than Draco Malfoy came over to Hermione and kissed her hand. "Enchanted," he said, smirking.

Hermione quickly withdrew. She also uttered a short, "idiot," before he stood back. And to top it all off, they had to dance together for Hermione to become more ladylike or whatever. Tuesdays and Thursdays would soon become her days in Hell.

"And, One-Two-Three, Four-Five-Six, ready and turn!" Draco said.

"Ahh!" Hermione screamed. Either it was the heels or her lack of coordination that was making her fall. She preferred the heels excuse.

"Okay, let's try this again," he said as she regained her bearings.

"I can't do this," Hermione muttered, going to sit down and get a drink of water. Draco dropped his hands to his sides and sighed.

"You're right- you'll never do it unless you practice!" he shouted, apparently frustrated.

"Well screw it all to hell then! My good-for-nothing aunt wanted me to do this crap!" she removed her heels. Atleast she was wearing a skirt and not a full-length dress.

"And you think I want to do this too? Granger, I've got news for i you /i , it wasn't me that killed your parents and made you stay here in this supposed hellhole… although I find it quite nice," Draco added.

"Well the bedroom is, but you know," Hermione said calmly.

"Hmm," Draco shrugged.

"So…" Hermione said, changing the topic. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"Mum wanted to come here for the scenic view. Some junk about the Eiffel Tower and all of her French friends. Ever since Dad went away (for whatever reason) for four months, three-and-a-half today, it's like she's been trying to play bachelorette."

"Where are you staying?"

"Near the Eiffel Tower, in that general area. Called the Parisian Inn or something. Really fancy, although I really don't care where we stay, as long as it's not some run-down Motor Inn, you know what I mean?" They both laughed and made eye contact. Wow. Draco Malfoy was smiling. That's something new- and laughing, too! Quite an anomaly, she thought. As this was getting somewhat awkward, their smiles faded. Hermione began to shuffle her feet and Draco looked away.

"DRACO! HERMIONE!" Jennifer bellowed. "WHY aren't you two dancing!" They jumped to her feet when she realized she wasn't wearing the high heels. Her aunt did, too.

Shaking her head, Jennifer told Hermione to follow her. She did as she was told, and once they were in the hall, Jennifer started to yell at Hermione.

"I took off my shoes because scientific research shows…"

"I could care less than a damn about your scienteefic researche! You'd better stop beeing such a smart gaul… boys don't like that, you know!"

"Then the Hermione as you know her might as well be gone!" Hermione challenged. "I'm the head of the class, Aunt i Jennifer /i ! And none of that is going to change simply because you want for it to!"

"No wonder you have no male acquaintances," Jennifer smirked evilly. "My dear," she started, sweetly, "with a little makeup, you could be a princess! A true Gilbreth woman!"

"Too bad I'm a Granger!"

"You're a descendant of Fenna Gilbreth, first voman to ever befriend and voo the great Richard Avogadro, the richest varlock of the eighteen and nineteen hundreds!"

"He was married," Hermione stated bluntly. "How honorable is that?"

Her aunt ignored her. "Act like one or I'll have your name changed to Hermione Jane Gilbreth. Go and dance. End of deescussion."

Hermione reentered the dance studio and Draco continued pirouetting and practicing the waltz by himself. Hermione joined in, still not wearing her heels. "This is obscene, us having to dance together," she started.

"Atleast you didn't have to dance with Pansy Parkinson," he replied.

Hermione stopped. "I thought you two were together?"

Draco pulled her closer and began to waltz again. "That bulimic horse? We did, for a little more than a day." Draco laughed.

"Oh." The music stopped and Hermione leaned back, remaining in Draco's arms. He twirled her back up and their faces were suddenly within inches of each other, their eyes longing for each other. Did Hermione forget who this boy was who was holding her? …Maybe not. He was breathing on her cheek and she down his neck. She hesitantly wrapped one arm around his head as he pulled her in even closer. She looked at him uneasily before closing her eyes. He soon felt her smooth lips on the corner of his mouth, and she recoiled, taking a step back. Draco pushed his fingers through his hair.

"Just kind of caught up in the moment," he spoke, almost inaudibly.

Hermione fetched her shoes and ran out of the room, yelling, "'Bye Malfoy! Go to work!" She pushed the doors aside and ran up three stories to her bedroom. Draco confusedly walked out of the studio and up the stairs, ready to leave the Mansion and catch a cab to the hotel when Jennifer yelled out to him,

"Vait, Draco! Ve vould love to escort you to the hotel!"

"Thank you," Draco said sincerely. Once in the limousine, Jennifer began indirectly asking Draco if he liked Hermione. He finally caught on and replied.

"No, Miss Gilbreth, I do not like your niece," he said politely.

"Vell, darleeng, I apologize, as you will be taking her to the annual dance at the Parisian Country Club. I've already talked it over with your mother, Narcissa."

"I know her name," Draco replied, looking out of the window.

"So is this a teenage thing?" Jennifer inquired.

"Is what?"

"Ze whole thing vith the sarcasm. Back in my day, ve never vere so rude!"

"I'm just saying…"

"Vell, I hope that you have something to vear. I'll have a boutonniere that matches Hermione's dress and corsage. Just vear a general tuxedo. Nice white collared shirt. You'll look darling," she smiled at him. He forced one back. Pierre finally told them that they had arrived at the hotel. Draco exited and bade Jennifer goodbye.

"It's in precisely von veek. See you Thursday, Draco!" she smiled inwardly as she closed the door and laughed inwardly. She smiled smugly as she poured two glasses of wine and the limousine had not yet departed.

Meanwhile

Narcissa was talking to Draco.

"I'm going to have a chat with my friends over tea. I'll be back around 5:00 p.m."

Draco looked at his watch. It was only 1:00 p.m. A four hour chat? He didn't question her, as it may limit his freedom by making her return earlier. He went to sit on the davenport and flipped on the news. "Okay, Mum, see you." She smiled, grabbed her purse and put on an ornate hat decked out in lace and silk flowers. The door slammed behind her moments later. It was at this time Draco slipped out of the door, a minute behind her, headed for the pool and poolside bar. He quickly conjured up a fake identification card and changed his boxers to swimming trunks before hiding his wand.

At the Gilbreth Mansion

Hermione sat in a pile of huge pillows and blankets near the TV and was watching a sappy romantic movie, one of the many on the muggle DVD rack in her room. A woman had just slapped a man, quickly turning around to kiss him (for whatever reason). How… romantic? More like "how hormonal that woman is," Hermione thought and laughed, turning off the TV and rolling over onto her back, yearning for anything magical after being stuck in a muggle area for… she counted the days on her fingers, six days. She could only read romance novels and watch romance movies, as prescribed by Jennifer. Well, she'd had enough. Hermione grabbed her broom and walked outside, but froze when she saw Narcissa and her aunt talking. Busted.


	2. Intoxicated Bliss

"Hermione, dahling, vhere are you going?" Jennifer asked shrewdly.

"I'm going flying. Can't you tell?"

"Vell, yes, I can, but I told you that you couldn't do any of dose magical things here! Oh, no, child! Vhat if someone vere to see!" she gasped. "My reputation at the fine vomen's society! I am magical, oui, but that is so-unladylike, you hear me? Don't ever do it."

Hermione walked over to her. "You know what? Seems like you just might have to have a problem with that. Wanna know why? I'm going flying!" As rarely as Hermione disobeyed, she had just done so now, running out of the door and mounting her broom. Before her aunt could tell her to come back, she was already soaring high above Paris. Her destination was still unknown, but she felt so free with the wind in her hair, her back free from any corsets or facsimiles thereof, and her feet feeling able to breathe, not in pinchy-toed shoes.

At the Parisian Inn

Draco walked up to the bar. "Hey, barkeep!" he yelled.

"Give me your best; surprise me with something exciting, nothing too dull or bland." He held out a twenty dollar bill.

The barkeeper put down the glass that he was drying and walked over to Draco, leaning on the counter. "So, what'll it be, young man? A virgin piña colada? How about a good soda?" He smiled at Draco, raising one eyebrow.

"Who do you take me for? I am a twenty-two year old man! Now get me a drink, please!" Draco lied.

The barkeeper, still disbelieving, leant closer and looked into Draco's heartless eyes. "Twenty-two? ID!"

Draco pulled out his fake one and shoved it in the barkeeper's face. He soon threw it back down. "If I didn't know better, I'd think that that ID of yours is fake," he said, fixing Draco a martini. He clunked the glass down next to Draco's fist.

"Seven dollars." he muttered. Draco held out the twenty and the man gave him his change. Draco smirked and began to drink it, slowly.

Back to Hermione

Hermione was flying through the air, putting an invisibility charm on herself, of course, taking in all of Paris, beautiful Paris. She was wondering where she could go on a leisure trip. Some ideas included the Eiffel Tower, some cafés, and a few shopping areas, when she thought of the Parisian Inn. She grinned and swooped down onto the Parisian Inn's front lawn. Well, she'd gotten this far, now what? She was carrying a broom- how random would that look?- and wearing jeans and a lime green top, not the least bit maid-like. She leaned the broom against the brick wall and walked inside, going to the concierge.

"Hello," she began, "I was wondering where the Malfoys were staying?"

"And you are…?" the woman asked.

"I'm their son's sister, Hermione… Malfoy." Hermione said. 'Sounds pretty good!' she thought.

"Umm, room 410. Do you have a key, Miss Malfoy?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "Although I should be under 'Malfoy.' Mum said that she would put me on… You see, I've just flown from school in the U.S. That's why I didn't come with them." More lies came from the 'good girl's' mouth.

"Oh… I don't see you here…"

"Well never before has this happened! I have to be there!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but you're not."

"This is pure and utter insanity! Let me speak with your manager!" she said, getting fake-angry.

The woman looked frightened. "No need! Ahh… It was probably just a mix-up!" she handed Hermione the key. "It's upstairs and then from the elevator, turn left and then right. It's next to a large tapestry."

"Thank you," she said sternly. Hermione went back outside to get her broom and then hurried into another exit, from there up the elevator and walked to room 410. She looked down at the key, feeling suddenly very powerful. She couldn't help but laugh a little.

At the Gilbreth Mansion

Narcissa asked Jennifer politely, "Are you going to punish her?"

"Severely." came the reply. "But let us not have her spoil our afternoon tea! I'll vorry about her vhenever she returns."

Narcissa reached for a finger sandwich and nodded. "You know, I don't think Draco would do such a thing."

"Yes, Narcissa, vell, this girl needs some discipline." Jennifer took a sip of tea and lightly sat the cup back down on its corresponding saucer. "And I'm vorking on it, believe me."

At the Parisian Inn

Hermione slid the key down into its slot and removed it quickly. The door beeped and she entered, greeted by an overhead voice, saying, "Bonjour!" She closed the door and looked around, seeing a bed with around 10 pillows and with two comforters. There were two bedrooms, the other she assumed looked just like this one, a grand bathroom and a living area with a wet bar off to the side. A television set was concealed in a large wardrobe-looking piece of furniture. There was a large wall with water falling down it, rocks jutting out from it. 'Wow, the Malfoys certainly are high-class…' she thought, wondering at once where Draco was. She kicked off her shoes and went to sit on the couch, flipping through a book of the hotel amenities. She decided to try the pool/bar first, remembering back to when they were all in Hogsmeade and he tried to get a few beers out of a portly man in one small pub. He could see right through his fake ID, though. With magic, it was easy to tell. She was wearing something of a bikini underneath her clothes-she had decided to go in her aunt's spa until she thought of going flying instead. Hermione too conjured up a fake ID, thinking that if Draco could do it, she surely could too.

She put back on only her jeans and sandals and walked down to the pool.

Surely enough, she saw Draco sitting at the bar. It looked like he'd actually tricked the muggle. She walked over to the handsome boy of only sixteen and sat down two seats away from him. "Hit me," she could hear him saying.

"This is your third one, I hope you know." Draco laughed and rose his eyebrows. "Just pour it, Lewis." Lewis was his last name, he had found out. After making Draco another martini, he turned and approached Hermione.

"So what'll it be for you, miss?" He hadn't even questioned Hermione's age! It must have been the way she held herself and spoke. She also guessed that he assumed that girls would be less likely to sneak into a bar.

"A coke and rum please- only a little bit, though." She smiled sweetly at him.

"ID, please," he started, explaining himself, "It's routine, you know…" Was he hitting on her? Eww, this guy looked to be almost 35-ish. She decided to try and turn him off from her. She at once rolled her eyes and slammed the card down on his hand.

"My bad!" she smiled sarcastically. The man grumpily sat it back down and mixed her drink.

She picked it up and moved next to Draco, finally gathering enough courage to do so. He turned to her.

"Granger?"

"Oh what a surprise," she said, patting him on the back. "Long time no see."

Draco wobbled in his seat and turned slightly to face her. She sipped on her drink, pushing it away. It was way too strong. Maybe she'd pissed off the barkeeper too much. "Yeah, can I buy you a drink?"

"Umm, sure," Hermione had never really drank that much liquor and alcohol before, so she decided, "Why not?"

A new barkeeper came to them.

"Two shots of vodka, please." She nodded and poured the shotglasses. Hermione reached for one but Draco slapped her hand away. "No, let's have a contest. Whoever finishes theirs last… has to kiss the other one."

Hermione objected. "No, I can't?"

"What's wrong, are you SCARED?"

"Malfoy, you're on." she said, suddenly agreeing to his challenge.

"One, two, drink!" Hermione and Draco began to chug down the vodka, it was burning Hermione's somewhat-virgin throat. Draco pounded down his glass first, saying, "Pucker up, Granger."

He smiled his trademark smirk and outstretched his arms. Hermione regretfully sat down her glass. "It was a contest, Malfoy, and I'm not doing this on my own free will."

He looked at her and puckered his lips. She leaned forward and kissed him squarely on the lips. He tried to further it, but she pulled away. "Next, time, be more specific, Malfoy," she said, punching him playfully on the arm.

"Fine, Hermione," he said, putting extra emphasis on her name.

"Wow, Malfoy, you are drunk, calling me by my first name." He swayed in his chair, pointing her with his finger.

"You just wait, the challenges get harder!" he said, his words somewhat slurred. He ordered two more shots, this time, though, they were stronger.

"L-last one to drink this down has to m-moon someone. An adult, though, n-no little kids! Let's keep this somewhat d-decent!" Hermione began to drink, as did Draco, but this time, Hermione finished before him. She was feeling lightheaded by the time Draco started laughing and standing up on the barstool. He unexpectedly turned and mooned Hermione!

"Draco! I mean, Malfoy! Cover yourself!" she laughed.

He sat back down and sat down, they were both laughing hard. Hermione looked at Draco and they both broke out into another fit of laughter. Some people were beginning to look at them. Draco held up a finger as if he was about to say something, but he soon fell off of his stool and landed on his back. Hermione, although wasted, could comprehend what was still going on- somewhat. She gasped and her eyes got really big.

"Draco!" she cried.


End file.
